


Red Bean Soup

by Sexycanofsoup



Category: KnB, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Shutoku, Training, midotaka - Freeform, takamido - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexycanofsoup/pseuds/Sexycanofsoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days leading up to the winter cup, Midorima is shaken. His fear about his upcoming match against akashi is affecting his game play, and Takao isn't sure how to help him. Takao, of course, has his own problems. The biggest one is his love for midorima, and the weight the secret is putting on him. As they start training camp the two boys are pushed to perfect their on court teamwork, but that can't happen until the secrets they've been hiding come unraveled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Sweat was running into his eyes, making seeing not only difficult, but highly unpleasant. But with only thirty seconds left to the practice match, Takao couldn’t afford to spend any time thinking about it.

Need the ball.

His thoughts were coming to him in grunt-like bursts now, nearly all of his brain taken over by instincts honed by endless hours of this game that was now his life.

Takao’s eyes darted back. He knew exactly where Midorima was, his hawk-eye ensured that, but he still glanced back. His goal wasn’t placement, but communication. He didn’t have to look far. Sharp green eyes speared him. Midorima had looked for him first.

Takao felt the familiar lurch in his stomach despite the pressure of the situation, but he wouldn’t let it distract him.

Can we do it?

Midorima’s eyes were hard, determined. That was a yes. But there was something else there. Something almost...playful. It was just a glint, and Takao was pretty sure no one else except maybe the other generation of miracle members would have noticed it. But they weren’t here right now. It was just his team, and so the little glint in Midorima’s eyes was his to interpret.

He’s going to do it--no matter what.

Takao was sure that’s what it meant. And that was thrilling. Because though he hadn’t known Midorima all that long, he still knew that the other boy wasn’t fond of breaking rigorously tested methods of victory with other more spontaneous versions.

But he’ll do it.

Takao flashed his teammate a bright smile that was all teeth. That earned him a disapproving frown that didn’t quite reach those green eyes. Takao’s stomach grew warmer. He could practically hear Midorima’s voice telling him if your expressions were any more open they’d fall right off your face.

Midorima was all about giving opponents nothing but stern poker faces--even if the opponents were his own teammates in this case. Takao knew Midorima had a point. It wasn’t good to give those with an advantage even more to work with, but Takao couldn’t help it. Taking things like practice matches that seriously was no fun at all. But he wasn’t throwing the game away. Not at all. He could feel the need to win burning in his gut--the fire to prove himself. It had been there ever since he’d met a certain green haired tsundere.

Takao didn’t have to look at the scoreboard to know where they stood: four points behind. That meant they needed at least two shots. They wouldn’t have time for more than two. They barely had enough to score once.

The problem, of course, was that Otsubo had played dirty. Well, dirty wasn’t the right word, but Takao still felt cheated. At first he, midorima, otsubo, and two second years had been on a team, and the remaining regulars and seniors had been on the other. Takao had spent the first three quarters of the practice match getting the ball to Midorima as much as possible, and it had paid off. They’d scored a ton of points and their little team had been ahead by twenty points. And then, with ten minutes left, Otsubo had switched up the teams. He’d sent Midorima and Takao over to the other side, and taken the other two regulars, miyagi and Kimura, over to his side. Takao was surprised at the anger that move had sparked inside of him. His past self would have laughed the situation off, but his new self, the one who needed Midorima to win, had looked at their new odds with a fierce determination. The captain had laughed and slapped him on the back when he’d seen it. “Good to see you serious for once,” he’d said before going to line up for the tip off. “Show me what you can do.”

And takao had. If he’d been trying hard before, he’d redoubled his efforts. He’d taken every ball, even the ones that didn’t seem possible, and vaulted them over to Midorima as fast as his fingers could push them. Of course Otsubo and the others hadn’t stood idly by. The team was known as one of the three kings for a reason. They were good, but Midorima was better.

A little more time would have been nice, though...

A flash of blonde, and then Miyagi was in his face.

“Going somewhere?”

But Takao had seen him coming. He’d learned the hard way what one second of dropping one’s guard could do in a game. He was full focus, and that’s why Miyagi didn’t matter. It was kimura that Takao was after. He was the one with the ball. Takao danced back, and Miyagi followed, mirroring him closely. But that was okay. Takao wanted him there. If he was being covered then the others would lower their guard a bit more.

I’ll get it, Shintarou, he thought. He slipped closer to the middle of the court. Miyagi was his shadow, there with him, but blind.

I can see though.

Sometimes it surprised Takao how clear everything was.

I can see everything.

He spun around and stabbed the ball from Kimura’s hands just as he was dribbling past, mind on the goal.

You can’t focus on just a single point, he thought, shooting his upperclassman a cheeky smirk. The basket is surrounded by space, and so much can happen in that space if you aren’t watching.

He didn’t look behind him as he passed the ball. He knew Midorima was waiting. He heard the smack of leather against flesh and knew his generation of miracles member had it.. Sometime over the last few months Midorima had gone from standard generation of miracles, to his generation of miracles. Takao hadn’t realized he had the capacity for possessiveness, but he learned all sorts of things about himself when he was with Midorima.

Get the rebound.

He wasn’t worried about the shot that was going to be made. Midorima had the ball. That means they had the shot. Takao wasn’t an idiot. He knew he would never be the kind of star that his teammate was, but if he could assist Midorima, and become consistent in his aid, dependable, then he could earn his own kind of irreplaceability. It wasn’t a position of glamour. His job was to get balls to Midorima. But the humbleness of the task didn’t phase him. Midorima was grateful for the passes. He’d learned that in Shutoku’s match against Seirin. That was enough for him. It wasn’t yet the acknowledgment that he sought, but if he didn’t concentrate on it too hard, he could pretend it was enough.

Takao skidded toward the edge of the court. Both Miyagi and Kimura were tangled now. That had been the reason he’d lured Miyagi over in the first place. They wouldn’t be entangled for long, but he only needed a seond’s head start.

He wasn’t confident about his ability to get the rebound. He already knew Otsubo had claimed the rebound in his mind, and the captain’s abilities when it came to strength and reach far outclassed his own.

But I have my own strengths.

Sometimes the ability to see felt like a weakness. Takao had watched so many opportunities to score and defend slip through his fingers, because even though he’d watched them unfold, he hadn’t been quick enough, strong enough, or talented enough to pull the shots off. But it was different now. He had Midorima.

But there were other opportunities he still missed--opportunities that weren’t basketball. The ones he most consistently missed out on were the opportunities that centered on Midorima himself. He’d had so many chances to talk to him alone. They spent so much time together. Most of their training was done alone once everyone else had left. They went to watch matches together and spent lunchtime and most of their classes together. Takao knew that there were a thousand excuses he could find to explain why he’d let each of those opportunities go, but he knew at the base of each one was a little seed of truth: cowardice. And that rankled him far more than any of his other failings. If he was weak, he could train. If he was stupid, he could learn. But if he was a coward then he had no future, because someone without the courage to even try would never get anywhere.

And that’s why you don’t deserve him.

He felt the thought like a tear in the sensitive lining of his stomach. But the feeling wasn’t like a hole. Something filled the tear. Something heavy and toxic. It weighed down his limbs and muddied his thoughts. One thing was clear though. He’d been in love with Midorima since the first time he saw him play, and the feeling had only deepened every day with every shot, motion, and word his friend gave him. And every time Takao looked at Midorima and felt that familiar spread of warmth in his chest he always had the same words for himself You poor, stupid asshole. Because several years before he’d sat down with himself in his mind and come to an agreement that he would never fall for a straight boy. And what had he done? Fallen for the straightest most out of league boy that he could set his eyes on.

concentrate.

he forced the word to take over. All around him he could see the shadows of the other players, their positions pinpointed in his mind. He slipped between two of his own teammates and wrapped a circle around of the the third years causing him to whip his head over his shoulder. He’d flustered him. Good. Another second gained. But otsubo was already closing in under the basket. Takao was faster, but otsubo had had a head start. They’d make it at approximately the same time. And Takao couldn’t win in a head to head battle with the captain, no matter how fueled up on love he was. But Takao didn’t need to be stronger or more experienced. He just needed to force an opportunity to present itself, and he was good at trickery. Very good.

His eyes flicked up to the ball. As always, its arc was very high, and it was just starting to descent. He skidded to a halt beneath the basket just as Otsubo pulled up alongside him. Not even looking at takao, he kept his eyes fixed on the ball and jockeyed into position. That was no good. The captain’s eye and focus were too good. Takao would have to fix that. he slapped Otsubo on the ass.

“Damn, captain, you look nice in that jersey.”

It wasn’t a lie. The captain’s body was a great specimen, one he might have honed in on more if not for a certain green eyed horoscope lover.

His motion got what he wanted. Otsubo jerked his eye away from the ball in surprise.

He has to look at the ball to see it. And therein lay their difference. He just had to keep the captain’s eye off the ball for another second.

He shoved his hands into Otsubo’s space, blocking his field of vision.

“Pay a little more attention to me or i’ll be insulted,” he shouted. “You forced me to be your rival in this game so put up with my bullshit.”

He saw a smile that was a flicker between fondness and annoyance cross Otsubos face. The ball rocketed toward the basket. Takao jumped. Not to be outdone, Otsubo snapped to attention and leapt up too, his body instinctively using Takao as a guide. It was only after he’d jumped that he realized what Takao had done, and by then it was too late. Takao, who hadn’t put his full strength into the jump, hit the ground again first. And then he jumped again, forcing everything into it just as the ball was swishing through the net. Takao was rising as Otsubo fell, higher then higher. Otsubo stretched out his arm, but it wouldn’t be enough. Not this time. Takao’s fingers touched the ball, and as they did he glanced down at his captain’s face. He expected anger, frustration, and at the very least, annoyance, at having been tricked. But Otsubo’s eyes danced with laughter and in his face was an unmistakable glimmer of pride. Takao used it to enhance his grip. He scooped the ball in. He didn’t have to search for midorima, his eyes went to him automatically. Midorima could have been wearing his pokerface, but he wasn’t. It was faint, but a hint of a smile was there. Takao’s chest could have held a thousand liters of air. He’d done it. He’d put that happiness there.

The rest was easy. Takao knew his teammates’ movements better than any other group. As the point guard, he’d spent the past year doing nothing but imprinting them into his mind. What was usually their best cohesive strength was now their weakness.

Shouldn’t have switched the teams, captain, he thought. You’re about to look so bad.

He slipped past miyagi’s botched attempt to steal the ball, and then Midorima was open.

Pass his mind said, but his body kept going. It was just a couple of feet, time was tight, but he believed. He pulled the breaks on his legs, and slammed the ball into Midorima’s hands.

“Special delivery, Shin-chan,” he said. Their fingers brushed and takao came alive, his face flushed with triumph. It wasn’t just his fingers. Midorima’s body was what had stopped Takao’s momentum. Their legs arms and torsos were all pressed close. They were slick with sweat, and neither could have smelled all that great, but the air was charged and takao was dizzy with the heat of his success.

Midorima blinked. Takao slapped the back of his hand and stepped back. He darted to the left and pushed himself into kimura’s space to allow his friend a clear shot. Just three seconds left on the clock but that was plenty of time. Midorima’s hands were magic and his mind was strong. There was no way there could be any problems when--

A clang.

Takao’s head shot up. He knew that sound, but only in conjunction with others. Midorima’s shots never made sound. usually, only by straining his ears in an all but silent gym could Takao hear the faint swish of ball on net. But this was a clang. Loud, obnoxious, and mocking. And as he watched the ball hit the rim, for a moment he thought that the shot hadn’t been made by midorima at all. But of course it had. Takao’s eyes glued themselves to the hoop.

Go in.

The thought was desperate. It was just a practice match, of course. Nothing was riding on this. So why was his heart in his throat?

The ball clanged again. Takao didn’t know time could stretch like this. it felt like it was being pulled right up with his heart.

The ball tipped, and then it went in.

Takao let out a whooping cry that was a little too strained to sound natural, but the shot had gone in. Of course it had. It was Midorima’s. But he had doubted. He darted a guilty look toward his friend. He shouldn’t have doubted. Midorima was infallible. Except...Midorima looked stricken. His eyes met Takao’s.

What’s wrong? he thought.

Midorima looked away. Around them the gym had exploded with sound. Cries of victory and well meaning frustration bounced off the walls. A hand slammed down on Takao’s shoulder.

“Don’t you know better than to embarrass your upperclassmen?” Otsubo said with a laugh.

“Yeah, at least pretend to lose,” Kimura called out.

“I’m going to throw so many pineapples,” Miyagi shouted. “Just as soon as I decide which of you pissed me off the most.”

Takao smiled, though it was uncertain. His stomach was unsettled.

“Shin-chan!” he called out.

Midorima glanced up, and Takao felt his stomach twist. No. Something was definitely wrong.

“Shin-chan?” he said again, a question this time.

Midorima looked down. Without a word he began to walk toward the changing room. That wouldn’t do at all, but when he went to follow him, Otsubo’s grip restrained him.

“Let him go. He probably doesn’t want you to see him like this.”

Takao looked at his captain. For the upteenth time he wondered how much the boy knew. He was starting to think it might be everything. Otsubo shrugged.

“You’re doing well, so don’t worry. You’ve improved. A lot. He knows that, and will trust you during the game.”

Takao accepted the words, but they didn’t make things easier. His eyes flicked back to the changing room. For a long time now his natural blunt and easygoing manner had been shadowed by the weight of the secret he was keeping from his friend. It felt particularly heavy now.

“Pack it in and get a good rest, guys,” Otsubo called out, releasing Takao. “The bus to training camp leaves bright and early tomorrow morning. Bring your best attitude.”

_Just don’t screw up, Takao reminded himself. So long as you keep your focus on the game everything will be okay._

_\---_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

The air around him was heavy with unshed rain, the morning grey.

This isn’t focusing on the game, and you know it, Takao thought as he cautiously climbed the stairs to the modest little brick home that belonged to his friend.He’d been inside Midorima’s house before on a couple of occasions. But this time was different because 1. he hadn’t been invited and 2. He didn’t have a good reason for being there. He was well aware of the reasons, but that didn’t slow his steps, and after half a moment of hesitation he brought his fist to the door and knocked. Nothing happened. A few seconds turned into half a minute. Part of him realized this was an opportunity to leave. But he stayed. He raised his fist again debating whether knocking could work, or if he’d have to ring the bell. It was too early for the bell, he knew that, but he’d sooner press it than walk away. Midorima’s reaction yesterday had put him on edge, and it was time to find out why.

The door opened. Takao jumped and quickly jerked his hand back down to his side. He hadn’t heard footsteps or anything. He didn’t know if that was a testament to his obliviousness or the ninja-like dispositions of Midorima’s family. It was probably a mix of both. The face staring out at him was the quietest of the family: Midorima’s younger sister.

“Morning, Reina. You’re up early,” he said.

He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the girl. She had bits of her older brother in her--quiet, serious, smart. But she was also entirely her own person. There was something a bit alien about her. Maybe it was her eyes. She didn’t blink enough. But she was a good person, and Midorima cared about her. That was reason enough for Takao to like her. Another thing he liked was her ability to cut right into the heart of things.

“He’s acting weird,” Reina said. She held the door open. Takao slipped in and kicked off his shoes.

“How so?”  
Reina fingered the cuff of her sweater. “He keeps staring into space. Unfocused. It’s weird.”

That was weird. It wasn’t just in his head.

“So we’re on red alert, or what?” he asked.

she shrugged again. She looked smaller today. Worry shrinking her. It was worse than he thought.

“Reina--”

She whipped around and grabbed his hand. “Fix it. I don’t know how.”

He blinked. Reina didn’t. He stumbled for words.

“I--what have you already tried?”

She shrugged and let go of his hand. “He doesn’t want to talk, or play shogi. Even Mustard can’t get a smile out of him.”

Mustard was the family pet; a black cat with yellow eyes. When Midorima was home the cat could almost always be found in his lap.

Reina jerked her eyes up. Directly above them was her brother’s room. She lowered her voice.

“I almost tricked him into eating natto yesterday.”

Takao blinked again. His hand went to his hair and pulled at the ends. It was worse than he’d thought. He should have gone after him post practice match last night. Alone time had been a bad choice.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, and headed for the stairs. She nodded, but didn’t move. He felt her eyes on his back as he climbed, but they didn’t put him off. They were united in their worry. But when he came to the landing out of her line of vision he stopped. What did she expect from him? A lot of people thought he just threw himself at situations and did whatever came naturally to him, but that wasn’t true. When it came to Midorima he wanted to be careful. Sure, teasing came easily--his friend practically invited it--but he still sometimes felt the old doubt lick at him--the one that told him he was more of a hindrance than a help, and that one day Midorima would snap and demand that Takao get out of his life. He still wasn’t sure what he would do if that day came, but he was learning to worry less about it.

He took a deep breath and arranged his face into a smile. It took effort this morning, he usually wore it naturally. He stood there for a moment, feeling it in his cheeks, and then dropped it. Midorima deserved better than a fake smile. He took another deep breath, pushed his hair off his face and started forward. Mustard was waiting outside of the room already. His head was on his paws, and the look on his face as he stared at the door could only be described as abandoned. Takao scooped him up and kissed the top of his head.

“He’s not talking to you either, huh?” he whispered against soft fur. “At least I’m in good company.

Mustard pressed his paw to Takao’s nose. Takao booped him right back. Then he knocked on the door.

“Hmm?”

Not good. The answer lacked all of Midorima’s usual crisp authority. Hmm wasn’t even a word. Takao gave Mustard a look. The cat scratched at his ear. Takao took that to mean This is going to be harder than I thought. He couldn’t agree more. That’s why he didn’t bother with anymore knocking and barged right in. He was looking for some kind of reaction, anything would have been good. But Midorima didn’t even bother to turn around.

“I’ve already eaten,” he said.

No you didn’t, Takao thought. He wanted to throw something at the boy’s head, but the only thing he was holding was Mustard.

“Damn, and here I was with a natto inspired picnic with your name written all over it,” Takao said with a snort.

Midorima whipped around, surprise on his face.

“I thought you were Reina,” he said. “What are you--”

Takao stuffed the cat into his hands. “Mustard’s feeling rejected. Cuddle him.”

Midorima’s hands automatically cradled the fluffy bundle. “Takao, why are you--”

“I’m also feeling rejected,” Takao said. He grabbed Midorima’s free hand and placed it on top of his head. “Cuddle me too.”

Midorima spluttered and shoved his head away. Takao grinned. Finally. This was a side of his friend he knew very well.

It’s going to be okay, he thought, and Mustard seemed to agree. He was purring in his favorite person’s hands.

“Reina says you have to come back from mount intellectualism and join us mortals back here on earth,” Takao said. His eyes made a sweeping turn around the room. It was pristine, as usual, everything in place save for the duffel back on the bed. He moved toward it.

“You’re always too loud,” Midorima huffed. “Mornings are meant for quiet introspection.”

“Mornings are meant for having fun,” Takao corrected. He unzipped Midorima’s bag. “You remembered to pack spare shoes, right? I hear Otsubo’s planning some weird wilderness survival stuff.”

Usually the first sign of having his privacy invaded brought Midorima to the brink of boiling over, but he didn’t say a word as Takao rifled through his bag.

Damn it, get angry, takao thought. He found that when his friend was upset he was the most likely to drop his guard and admit to what was bothering him. He began to pull things out of the bag at random, disturbing the military efficiency of packing, Midorima turned back to the window. It had finally started raining.

“I forgot my umbrella, Shin-chan, so you’ll have to let me share with you.”

Takao had also found that his forgetfulness could bring Midorima to the edge. Not this time. His friend’s voice was flat as he spoke.

“Take it. Just remember to bring it back.”

Takao put down the jersey he was holding.

“What are you talking about.”

Midorima just stared out the window. Takao felt his stomach twist. He crossed the room and jerked his friend around by the shoulder.

“I won’t have to bring it back. You’re coming with me, remember?”

Without the window to stare out of, Midorima had to settle for the spot above them on the wall. Takao’s stomach completed its twist, and then something sharp spiked.

“Come. We’re leaving.” The words had edges. He hadn’t meant to get angry. That never happened when he was with Midorima. The tall boy made no motion to move.

“Shin-chan.”

“I think I’ll stay here.”

No. This wasn’t right. Takao didn’t have a plan for this.

“Shin-chan, come on. Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it. But the bus is going to leave soon. We need to get there or we’ll piss everyone off.”

Midorima looked at him, finally, and struck him with a new expression. It was so unexpected that Takao needed a couple of seconds to register it: fear.

“I can’t,” Midorima said. “I can’t go with them.”

Takao didn’t ask why, even though the question was burning on his tongue. Instead he pinched the cuff of his friend’s shirt.

“Fine. Then you and I will train here,” he said.

Midorima blinked. He did that a lot more than his sister.

“What?”

It wasn’t often that Takao made Midorima lose his eloquence. Even now, in his worry, he was able to take pride in his success.

“You heard me,” he said.

Midorima frowned. He always got this little line between his eyebrows when he was trying to figure something out.

“No. That’s ridiculous. You’re the point guard. The team’s glue. They can’t practice without you.”

Takao crossed his arms. “And I can’t practice wtihout you.”

“Takao--”

“Forget it. If you’re not going to budge, then I’m not going to budge.”

“Takao.”

“Nope. not happening. Say my name as many times as you want. I’m a hundred times better at being stupid than you. I got this stubborn thing in the bag,” Takao said. He tilted his head up in an overly obvious show of defiance.

He saw a vein begin to tick in his friend’s temple. “I’m not being stupid,” Midorima said.

Takao let his silence speak for him. He waited. And then he waited some more. And then he won. Midorima exhaled, a sharp angry sound, then set Mustard down and stormed over to his bag and began to stuff in the things Takao had removed, this time with none of the precision he’d used in the first place. Takao let his breath out too, but in relief.

“You won’t regret this,” he said, shouldering his own bag a little more tightly.

“I’m already regretting it,” Midorima muttered. He shoved passed to get to the hallway. Takao smiled and followed him down the stairs. Thankfully, Reina wasn’t still standing by the steps, but she did poke her head in as they headed for the front door.

“Does this mean you’re done acting weird?” she asked.

Midorima ignored the question. “Tell mom my phone might not have service over the next few days but she shouldn’t worry.”

“Yeah,” Takao piped in. “I made sure he packed those heavy duty condoms so that he won’t be bringing back any suprise souvenirs.”

Midorima’s smack was right on cue.

“Reina’s only fifteen, idiot,” he hissed.

“And I know a lot more about sex then you ever will,” Reina said, her voice breezy. She looked at Takao. “He’s still a virgin, you know.”

“Naturally,” Takao said.

“I hate both of you,” Midorima growled. He was bright red.

Takao was too busy cackling to answer. Midorima stuffed his feet into his shoes in the angriest way possible and jerked the door open. Takao caught the umbrellas Reina tossed him. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

Takao saluted her with the umbrellas and turned on his heel, following Midorima out the door. He handed him an umbrella. “Here ya go, busom buddy.”

“Rot in hell,” Midorima answered, but accepted the offering.

“Be nice to your friends, Shintarou!” Reina called out from behind them.

“Yeah, be nice to your friends,” Takao parroted and linked their arms together.

Midorima shook him off with a roll of his eyes, but an almost smile twitched on his face as he did so.

I love you, Takao thought. It happened a lot. Mostly at random. He’d just catch a look at the other boy and be struck by how much the dorky giant had come to mean to him. He reached up and tugged at his friend’s bangs.

“What the hell?”

Takao still hadn’t opened his umbrella, but he didn’t feel the rain. He was grinning, and it wasn’t fake “That’s for worrying me,” he said.

And then something unexpected happened. Midorima reached over and tugged at Takao’s bangs in revenge. “And that’s for being an ass,” he said.

Takao’s smile stretched so wide that it ached. “But i’m always an ass,” he said. He still didn’t know what was bothering his friend, but whatever it was they’d fix it.

“And speaking of my assholery, wait here,” he said, and darted for the vending machine across the street. He heard Midorima groan from behind him. His whole body felt light.

“I’m sure Otsubo packed sports drinks,” Midorima called out. “What could you possibly need to get.”

Takao pulled out some change and began to feed it into the machine.

“Breakfast for a liar!” he called back. He punched the button for red bean soup, his friend’s long time favorite. The clang as the can fell, to Takao, sounded even more satisfying than it usually did.

\--

 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Takao glanced up from his book when he felt something bump against his head, and, when he saw what it was, it took all his self restraint not to react in any way. Midorima, who had also been reading, had fallen asleep, book still open in his lap, and, when the bus had turned, his body had slipped sideways, and his head had come to rest atop the boy beside him. Takao sat frozen, wondering why the world had decided to give him this present, and why now of all times. But questioning reality wouldn’t change it, and after several moments of indecision, Takao closed both his and Midorima’s books, slid them into his bag, and then oh so carefully eased his arm around his friend and pulled Midorima’s head onto his shoulder where he’d be able to sleep more comfortably. A wide eyed and breathless smile slowly spread on his face. He’d imagined scenarios like this before, and always he’d wondered if his hammering heart would give him away. But it wasn’t like that. He felt a calm settle over him giving him the combined contradictory feeling of both weighted down and feather light limbs. Midorima was warm; his hair tickled Takao’s neck.

If I don’t move this feeling never has to go away, he thought. He knew this was foolishness, but it felt all right to hope.

“Huh. When he’s sleeping he only looks half as annoying.”

Takao flicked his eyes up and found both miyagi brothers staring at him over the seat. Kiyoshi, their short tempered senpai, was the one who had spoken. His younger brother Yuya was staring at Midorima like he’d never seen him before.

“You can just say ‘adorable,’” Takao said. “Better grab the chance when you can, he throws a tantrum if you say it when he’s awake. He kept his voice uncharacteristically quiet. He wasn’t going to do anything to endanger the moment

“I didn’t know he could sleep,” Yuya said in an awed whisper. Takao rolled his eyes, but he understood where the boy was coming from. Midorima was always alert, and he stayed back in the gym practicing longer than anyone else. He gave off the impression of a tireless machine. This was the first time any of them had seen the boy asleep during the day.

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping well,” Takao said. “He’s probably nervous.”

“Anyone who sinks every shot he makes has no excuse to be nervous,” Miyagi said. His voice was gruff, but there was no animosity in it.

A head leaned in from the opposite seat, Kimura. “It’s probably Rakuzan. He always stiffens up when someone mentions that team.”

Not for the first time Takao was struck by how observant the quiet hard working third year could be. He knew the boy was probably right.

“He doesn’t need to worry because we’re going to deal with any team presented to us in the same way--by wiping the floor with them.”

Takao had to crane his neck to see the captain as he spoke. Otsubo was sitting in front of Kimura, knitting something bright orange. Everyone was long used to the sight.

“We’ve always been a strong team,” the captain continued. “But this year we’re even stronger. You’ve all lived up to Shutoku’s expectation. No matter what happens you can hold your heads high. But don’t mistake my words for doubt. We’ll win, because we have the best team.”

Otsubo hadn’t moved his eyes from the row of stitches he was counting, but even without eye contact Takao could see that the words had moved the team--as they always did. Otsubo was a hell of a captain. He stood out when he was playing, not because of his height, though that was considerable, but through the power of his passion.

Several first years in the back let out cheers. Takao glared at them, but Midorima slept through it.

“Personally, I can’t wait until we’re matched up with rakuzan,” Miyagi blustered. “I’ve been fantasizing about the moment when that little red haired midget has to line up and shake hands with Otsubo. He’ll have to crane his head back so far to look at him that he might do permanent damage to his neck.”

All around them teammates burst out laughing. And though Takao was enjoying Midorima’s beautiful sleeping face (he’d never realized how long his friend’s eyelashes were) he also wished that Midorima was awake to be soothed by the words of his teammates.

“Hey, that asshole’s only an inch shorter than me,” Takao grumbled.

One of the second years behind him leaned over the seat and ruffled his hair.

“That’s all right, shortie, we still love you.”

“Yeah shortie,” his seatmate chimed in.

Suddenly everyone was reaching over to ruffle his hair, and Takao was having none of it. “Stop it! You’ll wake Shin-chan!”

But that stopped no one, and so Takao had to put up with it until the driver shouted that they were only fifteen minutes away from the training camp. Then there was a scramble as everyone tried to find their things. Somehow in the three hour bus ride their belongings had scattered to every corner of the vehicle. Takao ignored the hubbub around him and rested his head against Midorima’s. He was also pretty tired. He hadn’t slept well the night before. Perhaps none of them had.

He looked down. Midorima’s hand was resting on top of Takao’s thigh. The last turn the bus had made must have caused it to slide. He could feel the skin beneath his pants ,where the hand rested, burning.

Ignore it, he commanded himself.

But he couldn’t. And so after a minute of simultaneously enjoying/being tortured by the hand, he lifted it and gently placed it back in his friend’s lap. For a moment he let his hand rest there on top of Midorima’s taped one. Then a lump, thick and uncomfortable, forced it’s way up into his throat. Takao jerked his hand away. Shocked and ashamed by this strange urge to cry.

You knew what you were getting into, he reminded himself. You already know nothing will come of these stupid feelings.

But some part of himself, even if it was just a small part, refused to accept reality, and that was the part that found too much happiness in such a small touch. For the rest of the ride, Takao kept his hands folded in his lap, and he didn’t move even when the bus parked and everyone began to clamber out.

“Takao.”

He looked up and found Otsubo standing beside his seat. The captain, the sleeping Midorima, and himself were the only three left on the bus.

“What’s up, cap?” Takao asked, quickly assembling an appropriate expression.

“You don’t have to smile if you don’t want to, Takao.”

He stared up at Otsubo. The captain’s face was troubled.

If he’s noticing, then Shintarou will notice. You can’t be this transparent.

But telling himself that didn’t help. The lump rose a little higher. Takao bit his lip and looked down. He wanted to say some stupid joke but he couldn’t think of any.

“You take really good care of him,” Otsubo said. “No one else can do the job you do.”

Guilt prickled at his skin making it itch.

“I can see what it’s doing to you, Takao. You don’t always have to be the team cheerleader. We have shoulders too. You can hand the burden over sometimes.”

Takao couldn’t look up. The guilt was only getting stronger. He wanted to tell Otsubo to stop, but he was worried if he tried to speak his voice would crack.

“Look at me.”

Takao shook his head.

“I’m not as altruistic as the rest of you. You all work so hard, everything you do for the sake of the team, for our name, but I--I’m not--”

Otsubo grabbed his arm and pulled up. Panicking, Takao extracted himself from Midorima and followed the captain to the back of the bus. Then Otsubo lowered his voice, and said, “So is doing things for the sake of someone you love not noble in your eyes?”

Shock pulsed down into Takao’s fingers as a single thought lit the inside of his brain.

He knows. The thought was on repeat. He knows. He knows everything. He knows how you feel.

His mouth was dry, but the captain’s hand, when it touched his shoulder was warm and steady. That’s when Takao realized that his own body was trembling.

“It’s okay,” Otsubo said.

But it couldn’t be, right? In a moment the captain would drop his hand in disgust, kick him off the team, or, at the very least, tell the others. Then they’d all look at him differently. They’d find excuses not to shower in the changing room when he was there. They’d start flinching when he touched them. They’d scribble things on his locker, suddenly stop talking when he walked into a room. He knew. He’d experienced it before. Middle school memories were still fresh in his mind. He was the gay kid. He’d always be the gay kid. But he’d vowed to be so much more careful in high school. When his family had moved he’d used it as an opportunity to start over fresh. But then Midorima had showed up, and it had been impossible to stop himself from falling. But he’d still been careful, at least, he’d tried to be, so how had Otsubo…

“I have an uncle who looks at his boyfriend the same way you look at Midorima,” Otsubo explained. “They’ve been together for ten years now, and they’re the happiest pair I know. You’re good for him. You balance him out, relax the stiffness. And I know that it’s because of you that he’s learned to open himself up to working as a team.”

Takao tried to speak but words weren’t forming well.

“I--I’m not going to...You don’t have to worry about me doing anything. I promise I won’t--he doesn’t know. None of it. He--”

Takao stopped talking. This was mostly because he now had a mouthful of Otsubo’s shirt. The captain had pulled him into a hug.

“Listen to me, Takao. I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I hope that at the very least I’ve managed to show you that this team--you guys--are one of the most important parts of my life. I love you guys, you know that, right? Tell me you at least know that.”

“I...yeah.”

That was all Takao could manage. He had his eyes squeezed shut against Otsubo’s shoulder knowing he was fighting a losing battle against threatening waterworks.

“Don’t give me that. You obviously thought I couldn’t be trusted. What did you think I was going to do? Humiliate you? Kick you off the team?”

Takao burrowed in tighter. No way could he admit he’d thought exactly that. Otsubo must have read his mind because he smacked the back of Takao’s head.

“Are you crazy? We need you a lot more than you need us. How many people do you think would turn up if I held an audition to replace your hawk eye?”

Takao managed a small laugh at that. “Well, maybe you could steal Izuki from Seirin, and with a little training--”

That earned him another smack to the head. “Are you crazy? We’re already overloaded with terrible jokes. How much more do you think I can handle?”

Takao grabbed two handfuls of Otsubo’s shirt. He’d let go soon. That’s what he told himself. But it wasn’t just Otsubo’s arms around him, it was his acceptance. The captain knew, and he accepted him, and that was worth so much more than Takao had ever managed to give him in return. But apparently Otsubo still wasn’t done giving.

“Takao, do you know what my job as captain is?”

Takao shrugged. It was a strange gesture to make while being hugged by someone else. “Leading us to victory, getting us all to work together.”

“Nope,” Otsubo said.

Takao absorbed that answer and tried again. “Er...running practices, boosting morale, breaking up fights?”

”Wrong again,” Otsubo said. He sounded like he was smiling.

“I dunno then. Standing around and looking hot?”

“That’s your job,” Otsubo said.

Takao laughed. It sounded steadier this time.

“Hey, you think I’m joking. But you don’t know how many times i’ve caught dazed teammates staring at you. At times I’ve been tempted to conduct practice with a paper bag over your head.”

This time it was Takao who swatted the captain’s head. He wiped at his eyes as he pulled away.

“Come on, what’s the captain’s job already,” he grumbled. He had stopped shaking.

“All right. The captain’s job really only comes down to one thing: taking care of his teammates. Winning, and coaching are all well and good, but any captain worth his salt will tell you that his main responsibility is making sure each of the team’s members are okay, and that includes you, overly handsome turd.”

He dug into his pocket and handed a tissue to Takao. It was crumpled, but clean.

“How long has that been in there?” Takao asked.

“If you don’t want it, don’t take it, asshole,” Otsubo said.

But they were both smiling. Takao took the tissue. Otsubo waited until he’d cleaned himself up before clapping him on the shoulder.

“I’ll head inside and get the team settled in. I’d suggest waiting a few minutes for the red eyes to go away before waking up your slumbering carrot over there. Meet us in the gym after you’ve dumped your stuff and unrolled some bedding.”

He shot takao a smile, walked the length of the bus, and jumped out. Takao thought about running after him to say...something. He wasn’t sure what. Thank you was a good choice, but it felt insufficient.

I’ll just have to make sure we win, he thought. That’ll be the best thank you I can give him.

When he touched his face again he realized he was smiling. It felt so good to have a friend know. The relief of it was making him a little lightheaded and he was worried he’d break into a fit of giggles. The only person he’d told was his sister Sora. He’d wanted to tell Midorima, but he couldn’t figure out a way to do so without accidentally confessing in the process. He wouldn’t risk his friendship for anything. Midorima was the first friend he had ever connected with like this. He could speak to him without using words, and found that he could throw  the full force of his personality at him without the risk of alienation. Midorima had given him a lot: motivation, companionship, homework help, but, most importantly, a sense of usefulness. Maybe it sounded pathetic to others, but teaming up with Midorima had subtly changed the way he did everything. He had purpose now, drive. And it had spilled over from the court into his school studies, his interpersonal relationships, and even the way he organized his room. And he loved his friend for that. He loved that Midorima made him a better, more confident person. He only hoped that he could give him something equally valuable.

Takao made the journey back to his seat and smiled. Without Takao to lean on, Midorima had slumped over and was now sprawled across the bench. It was the least composed he’d probably ever looked.

Still adorable though.

He wasn’t quite sure how a boy nearly 2 meters tall could successfully pass for cute, but he’d stopped questioning it. He reached beneath his friend and carefully propped him up knowing Midorima would be embarrassed to wake up in any position approaching undignified. He leaned him against the window, waited a couple of minutes, and then shook his shoulder.

“Oi! Wake up. We gotta go face Rakuzan in ten minutes. Akashi kidnapped all the third years and now you’ve been made replacement captain. What’s our strategy?”

For three priceless and unforgettable seconds, Midorima’s waking face exhibited unparalleled terror. But then he took in the bus seats around them, and the laugh Takao was trying to stifle, and replaced it with anger.

“Idiot,” he muttered, shoving Takao away.

“Your idiot,” Takao reminded him. “Oh, and by the way if your books are so boring they put you to sleep, then maybe you should enlist me for recommendations.”

“None of your books have happy endings,” Midorima said.

“Sure they do. Just not the ones I lend you.”

Midorima paused what he was doing (running his hands through his hair) and cocked his head in an unspoken question. Takao darted out of smacking distance before answering.

“It’s because I want to see shin-chan’s crying face.”

He must have forgotten how long Midorima’s arms were, because he still managed to get swatted.

“Everyone’s abusing me today,” Takao whined, rubbing his arm.

“Your existence is the real abuse,” Midorima said. He got to his feet. “Now where’s the team.”

“Skinny dipping in the lake. Otsubo said naked cardio builds character.”

Midorima sighed. “Are you incapable of straight answers?”

Takao thought about how gay he was for his friend and laughed. “Nothing about me is straight.”

It was a daring answer, but its meaning went right over Midorima’s head. He was too busy collecting their stuff. To Takao’s surprise, Midorima shouldered both bags and headed down the aisle. Takao raced after him and tapped one of his biceps.

“Look at my big strong man.”

“Do you want to carry your bag?” Midorima asked.

“No.”

“Then shut up. Not everything has to be embarrassing.”

Of course it did. Because embarrassing Midorima was his number one favorite hobby in the world. But he was enjoying the sight of Midorima being a gentleman, so he settled down to business.

“Otsubo told us to set out our bedrolls and then meet at the gym. He’ll probably start us on running drills because he wants to see how fast he can make one of us drop dead.”

“Probably,” Midorima agreed.

“If I start to die will you put me on your shoulders and carry me to safety?” Takao asked.

“No. I’ll consume your corpse so that I have energy to finish. That way your death won’t have been in vain,” Midorima said.

Takao burst out laughing. Many people thought the green giant didn’t have a sense of humor, but that was silly. Takao never could have fallen for someone who couldn’t make him laugh. They came to the front office and were directed by the receptionist toward a dirt road that led to the bunkhouses. When they finally found them, they wished they hadn’t. The door didn’t close all the way, the windows were too grimy to see out of, and all the good bed space on the floor was taken.

“Is that a dead rat?” Takao asked. He was standing behind Midorima for safety and pointing toward the corner. Midorima went forward to investigate. Takao added a new reason to love the boy: bravery.

“I think it’s a chipmunk,” Midorima said. “And it might just be sleeping.”

Takao groaned. “Maybe I shouldn’t have convinced you to come.”

Midorima smiled. His smiles were never big, but they were so important. “Too late now.”

He tossed his bag down onto the floor. The sudden noise woke the rodent, which was neither a rat nor a chipmunk, and, in its race toward the door, it managed to run over Takao’s foot.

“Shit! It got me! Shin-chan I’ll die. I’ll definitely die!”

And in so saying he leapt into Midorima’s arms, who caught him, more out of surprise than anything else.

“Calm down. No one is dying.”

“I can’t feel my leg! I must have rabies. You’ll have to shoot me before I go crazy and bite someone else.”

“What are you talking about. It didn’t bite you, did it?”

Midorima was looking far too amused considering his friend’s impending death.

“I don’t know!” Takao wailed. “Maybe.”

“I think you’d know if you’d been bitten,” Midorima said.

“Maybe my nerves are frozen out of fear,” Takao reasoned. It was sound logic to his own ears.

Midorima rolled his eyes and set him down on top of his bag.

“No, Shin-chan! Don’t leave me for dead!”

“No one’s leaving you. Now calm down.”

He reached for Takao’s shoe and began to undo the laces. Takao squeezed his eyes shut as Midorima pulled his sock off.

“Is it bad?” he squeaked. He waited with baited breath.

Midorima let out a slow hiss. “Wow. It’s a lot worse than I thought. It really mauled you. It’s possible that you’ll lose the leg, or at least several toes.”

Takao’s eyes sprang open in raw panic, but all that met his eyes was his own foot, whole and healthy, just as he remembered it, as well as a particularly satisfied Midorima.

“Now we’re even,” he said.

It was Takao’s turn to get in some well deserved smacks, but instead he threw his arms around his friend’s neck. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Midorima was all spluttering indignation as he unwound Takao’s hands. “Oh, but you’re allowed to trick me?”

“Your heart’s a lot bigger, it can take it. I’m small and frail.” Takao tried to make himself sound feeble as he said the words, but Midorima wasn’t buying it.

“Feeble my ass. Can’t you do a hundred pushups?”

“A hundred and eleven,” Takao said as he laced up his shoe. The fear in his voice had been replaced with pride.

Midorima let loose a small disbelieving laugh. “111 pushups, and scared of a marmot.”

“I thought it was a midget raccoon.”

“What?”

“Well it was too small to be a regular sized one,” Takao said.

“You have the brain of a midget raccoon,” Midorima muttered. He offered out his hand. This time when Takao took it he felt none of the guilt. Midorima hoisted him up. Just then, one of the other first years barged into the bunkhouse.

“Otsubo says you guys took too long and now you’ve got to run extra laps around the gym.”

The boy took off before he could be shot for being the bearer of bad news. Both Takao and Midorima groaned.

“I told you he’d have us running,” Takao said.

“I look forward to consuming your corpse,” Midorima said.

Takao nudged Midorima, and then together they raced to the gym.

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a sucker for these two, and i'm glad I chose to do this fic from Takao's perspective. I find his mind fascinating, and he's just so dang lovable. I also have a huge soft spot for Otsubo, though it annoys me that he rarely gets any screen time (all the shutoku members deserve more screen time) I also couldn't resist having Takao jump into midorima's arms. He must look so cute there. To anyone reading this, I hope you're enjoying. It's a lot of fun to write.  
> Warning: upcoming angst.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

When the ball missed the rim entirely, Takao wrenched the cart full of balls away from Midorima and grabbed his wrist.

“Enough!”

He shouted it. He was supposed to be the calm one. Otsubo had asked him to come in here and soothe Midorima’s nerves, but now he was sure that all he’d managed to do was ramp his friend up further.

It had been a terrible day of practice, though it had started off well enough. Their warm up had been great, and even the first practice match had been fine...until another one of Midorima’s balls clanged against the rim. He’d unraveled then and left the gym. Takao had raced out after him, and that’s when he found Midorima on the outside court in the biting cold with a cart full of balls missing shot after shot because his hands were shaking way too much to have any sort of ball control. Takao couldn’t take this, and it didn’t have to happen. Midorima just had to calm down, take a breath, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Midorima jerked his hand away and picked up one of the many balls already on the floor. Takao speared it out of his hand and grabbed both his friend’s shoulders. Midorima shoved at Takao. Takao shoved him back. Midorima grabbed him and then they were on the floor shoving at each other, hands clawing and catching in each other’s jerseys. Takao grabbed Midorima’s wrists and pinned them to the floor, but his friend shoved his knee up into his stomach, causing Takao to double over and release him as he gasped for air.

“Shin-chan!” Takao wheezed, but Midorima rolled to his feet and stormed toward the edge of the court.

“I’m talking to you Shin-chan!” he shouted, managing to get some sound out. He stumbled to his feet. His knee stung, he must have scraped it, but far worse was the tightening in his chest.

Midorima wrenched the gate to the court open and slammed it behind him. Takao’s heart was bleeding. He wanted to pull Midorima close, wrap him up, and tell him that it was all going to be all right. But he was also furious, at himself, for being useless, and at Midorima who wouldn’t even take one minute to talk to him.

Takao ripped open the gate, planted his feet, and sucked in a breath in order to bellow. “Midorima Shintarou, get your ass back here so we can talk like civilized human beings.”

Takao knew several things about Midorima. One, that he could be dreadfully stubborn. Two, that he hated nothing more than a blow to his pride. And three, he hated uncertainty. And he knew that those three things meant that Midorima wasn’t going to stop running, and he was right. His friend only picked up the pace. Takao felt his face twist into something too ugly to be called a smile.

“Fine. You want to do it this way? We can do it this way,” he said. And then he broke into a run.

Midorima was a lot better at him at a lot of things. He was smarter. He was stronger. And he had a nicer ass, but despite his height advantage, he wasn’t faster. And so Takao, fueled entirely by his rage, raced after his friend and closed the gap. And then, when they were only a few feet apart, Takao leapt forward in a flying tackle, snagged Midorima around the waist, and brought them both crashing to the ground. It hurt. A lot. And he was terribly winded. But that didn’t stop him from spewing forth a volley of furious swearing. “How can someone so smart..be such a stupid...asswipe...you piece of...shit.”

He was on his knees, panting as he spoke, but Midorima hadn’t moved. He was still face down on the ground. Takao smacked his leg.

“Get up!” he shouted. “Get up and talk to me!”

Midorima’s hands tightened into fists around clumps of grass, but he didn’t make a move to get up. Takao smacked him again.

“I said get up! Friends talk to each other, don’t they? They tell each other what’s bothering them, right? So how come I always feel like I have to drag things out of you like it’s poison? Why won’t you talk to me? Am I just not worthy? Have I pissed you off in some way? Or was I wrong in my assumption in thinking that we were friends? I won’t know unless you Talk. To. Me.”

The last three words were snapped through tightly clenched teeth. And still, even though Takao felt like the strain would splinter his molars, Midorima didn’t speak.

“At least look at me!”

His voice was beginning to shred, and he hated that.

“At least turn around so I can start guessing. Help me out here, okay? Because I’m _not_ smart enough, and I’m _not_ calm enough to try and figure this shit out by myself. Just, fucking--just _turn the hell around!”_

He dug his nails into Midorima’s shoulder and wrenched him around, prepared to lash into him with the full strength of his anger, but then he noticed Midorima’s hands, and the way the tape on his left hand had come unraveled, as well as how it was stained with drops of red.

“Shit.”

Just like that, Takao felt all the strength leave his arms. His hands fell to the side.

“Shin-chan, I--I didn’t mean...I came out here to try and help. I just wanted to talk to you. You wouldn’t talk and I couldn’t figure it out and I wanted to help and shit, _shit_. I’m so stupid. I only made it worse. I hurt your shooting hand. Before your most important game and I--I--”

And then he let out a sob--an ugly frustrated sound. And then another and another. And then he was back on his hands, staring down at the ground as the world around him blurred and his eyes and nose streamed and he hated everything, except for the green haired boy with him, because it was very obvious in his horror and misery that he was still very much in love with his friend, and that it was killing him faster than he’d expected.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

His voice choked off, but as it did a strong arm, shaky but warm, snaked around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“Not your fault,” Midorima’s voice was gruff, but that also shook. “Don’t cry. Not your fault.”

But that only made him cry harder, of course it did, because Midorima was finally holding him, but it was for all the wrong reasons, and he was making a fool out of himself, and the tears wouldn’t stop. And everything, all the good things Midorima had given him were so hard to dredge up now, and he just wanted to crawl away and find some small wet hole to drown himself in.

“Takao...I didn’t… This is why I...I just didn’t want to worry you, okay. I thought I could deal with it on my own.”

Midorima was talking. Takao was crying, and they were both covered in dirt and scrapes, but Midorima was talking and that was a start.

“Fuck you,” Takao said and swiped at his eyes, one hard rough stroke that did nothing but make a bigger mess.

“I’m sorry,” Midorima said, and he sounded genuine, but that didn’t stop Takao from saying it again.

“Fuck you.”

“No, Fuck you,” Midorima said. It was the first time Takao had ever really heard his friend curse. The words themselves were harsh, but the tone wasn’t. “Don’t say we aren’t friends, even if it’s just in an angry sarcastic way.”

Takao was quiet. His body was stiff, but he didn’t move away. He was waiting. And Midorima understood what he was waiting for: a confession. Something real to take down the wall of all the things that hadn’t been said.

“It might be an easy threat for you to make,” Midorima continued--awkward, stilting, but determined. “You’re a popular guy. Everyone you meet wants to be friends with you. But I’m different. I didn’t have friends before you. You’re my first--really my _only_ real friend. So for you to say that, to doubt it...I don’t like it. Not at all. Don’t do that.”

Takao bit his lip--bit it so hard he tasted slippery copper--and then he let go of the restraints he’d put on himself and buried his head in Midorima’s chest.

“You suck.”

He beat a closed fist against Midorima’s shoulder.

“You suck so much. You suck at friendship. You suck at expressing yourself. You suck at showing appreciation. And you’re the crappiest cook I’ve ever met.”

There was a beat of silence. Midorima didn’t contest any of it. Instead he flicked a bug off of Takao’s shoulder and said. “You’re right, about all of it. I suck at every social aspect I can think of. But you know what?”

Takao looked up. He didn’t want to. He was sure his face looked awful--puffy and wet and full of snot--but if Midorima was laying himself bare, the least he could do was look at him.

“What?” he asked

Midorima cracked a vulnerable smile. “At least I can tell a lemming from a midget raccoon.”

Takao closed his eyes. His smile was a little too relieved. It hurt. He felt a hand swipe beneath his eyes.

“If you don’t stop crying, then I’ll start, and if you’ve never seen a giant green haired basketball freak cry, now is not the time to find out.”

Takao felt something scratch against his skin. Tape. Midorima was using his left hand, his better hand, to wipe at his face. Takao took hold of the hand and wrapped his fingers around it. He brought it to his lips. He didn’t kiss it, but he let his breath rush over the palm as he asked, “How bad is the damage?”

Midorima didn’t pull his hand away. It was Takao that pulled it down and began to carefully unwrap the tape.

“Just surface scrapes,” Midorima said. “Everything should be fully healed in a few days.”

Takao turned the hand over and examined it carefully. There were only two scraped spots, both were shallow, on Midorima’s knuckles, and had already crusted over.

Midorima let out a sharp laugh with no humor in it. “Of course, even perfectly healed hands won’t help me if I can’t even get my hands steady enough to shoot a damn basket.”

Takao felt his ribs stretch and contract. He kept his breaths even. They were here now. They’d arrived at a point where they could talk about it.

“Your hands are steady now,” Takao said. The shaking had quieted during the tape unwrapping.

“My hands know I’m not shooting baskets now,” Midorima said.

Takao looked up. He hadn’t let go of Midorima’s hand, and he didn’t plan on doing so. If Midorima wanted it he could take it back himself.

“Are you afraid?” he asked. He already knew the answer, but it was the beginning he needed.

“Yes,” Midorima said.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked.

“Everything,” Midorima said.

A stiff wind picked up. Takao said nothing as Midorima automatically hunched to shield him from the cold, but he felt the motion deeply, and he carved the feeling into his mind so that even if he wanted to forget it, he’d remember.

“Failure,” Midorima said once the wind had died down. “Looking like an idiot. Realizing I’m not good enough. Seeing him see me experience all those things.”

“Who’s ‘him?’”

Takao knew the answer to this too, but he needed to get the name into the open air.

“Akashi.”

Midorima had to look into the distance as he said it, but at least he’d said it.

“Akashi Seijuro,” Takao said, tasting the name but really feeling nothing towards it but resentment. “What’s different about him? Why does he spook you this much?”

“He’s smarter than me,” Midorima said. “I mean, he’s not the first one, obviously. I’m not arrogant enough to presume that I’ve been singularly gifted with intelligence. But it’s the way he uses his brain. Most people don’t actively plan out ways they’ll make me fail. Most people don’t bother with me at all. But Akashi wants to crush me, and he’s never failed, Takao. It doesn’t matter what it’s for or the significance--anything I challenge him to he beats me in, and I’m so tired of losing.”

Takao listened, and he left a respectful beat of silence after Midorima had finished to show that he’d absorbed what he’d said. But nevertheless, the first word that left him was still, “So?”

“So?” Midorima repeated.

“Yeah, ‘So What,’” Takao said. “I know losing sucks, but is it really so bad? I mean, aside from the obvious reasons. But in all seriousness, so what if he thinks he’s proven himself the winner. No matter what he says, you and I will still go back home, where I’ll bother you, and you’ll tutor me. I’ll make dinner, you’ll try to help, and at the end of the day we’ve still got everything important, and he gets to hug a scoreboard from a game. We can always play more games, shin-chan. Some are important than others, and I _feel_ it Shin-chan. I want to win this so damn badly. It’s a goal that’s plastered over every thought of my mind. But you know what? In the future, I’ll have more goals, and hopefully, you’ll be part of them.”

He blew out his breath before continuing.

“I know you want to win. And god knows I know I want to win, but I’d give that victory away in a second, to whoever asked for it, even that asshole Akashi fuckface, if it meant I could see you throw that ball with the freedom you’ve always thrown it with. Because you love basketball, Shin-chan. And I’ll be damned if I let that pretentious buttwipe take that away from you over some damn trophy.”

Takao finally stopped, having run out of things to say for the moment. He felt deflated but more stable, the way people do when they’ve finally found the words to say something they’ve been holding onto. And by the way Midorima gaped at him it was clear he didn’t know how to react.

“Well...he’s still my rival.”

It was Takao’s turn to stare. “Really, Shin-chan. Really?”

Midorima had the decency to look flustered. “I can see what you’re saying, but it’s not so easy for me to just drop everything and think that way. I’ve been trying to prove myself to him for so long. I made him my rival. You can understand that, right?”

Takao blew out his breath again, but this time it didn’t feel as good.

“Maybe, but that’s not a good kind of rivalry. It’s more like how hanamiya and that guy from Seirin are rivals.”

“I don’t understand,” Midorima said reflexively.

Takao shook his head. With surprise, he realized that despite all the time that had passed, his friend still hadn’t pulled his hand away. Normally he would have been over the moon about this, but anxiety was clawing at whatever buzzing contentment he was getting from the close contact.

“I’m saying that I don’t think that this rivalry you’ve established gives you a sense of satisfaction or pushes you to greater heights.” He paused, trying to pick his words carefully. “I think it’s dangerous. You could get hurt--no, you’ve _already_ been hurt, and it could get worse.”

Midorima said nothing. Takao tilted his head up, causing Midorima’s bangs to brush over his lips. Takao tugged on the bangs, and then glanced back down at the hand in his lap.

“I hate Akashi,” he said. The only reason Midorima could hear him was because they were so close. “I’ve never even met the bastard, but I hate him so much. I’ve never really hated anyone before. It’s weird. It’s like it eats at me. I feel it in my stomach.”

Midorima rested his cheek on top of his head, causing Takao to fall silent for a long moment. He closed his eyes and let the feeling slip down his limbs.

“I hate what he does to you,”  he said. “I hate that all you have to do is think about that bastard for one minute and then it can take a whole day of effort to get you to smile again. I hate that his influence is stronger than mine. I hate that he has a deeper impression on you.”

It was hearing his own words out loud that made Takao realize something. His eyes shot open and he finally let go of Midorima’s hand.

“I’m jealous of him,” he whispered.

He tested the words in his mouth and found that they had the sharpness of truth.

“Holy shit, I’m jealous of that evil psychotic shrimp.”

“You’re only an inch taller than him,” Midorima said.

Takao rolled out from the arm holding him and shoved his friend’s knee.

“Stop that! I’m serious! I’m jealous of that bastard. I might kill him.”

“You couldn’t kill a man if he handed you a knife, laid down in front of you, and closed his eyes,” Midorima said.

Takao leapt to his feet. “I will _so_ kill him. I’ll do it in a fit of passion.”

Midorima didn’t even have to stand up. His long arms let him snag Takao around the wrist and yank him down.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“My heart is broken,” Takao insisted.

“Your heart is a lunatic,” Midorima said. “So just shut up and calm down. You have no reason to be jealous.”

“Of course I do! He’s my better in every way.”

Midorima’s grip tightened to the point of hurting, and his face clouded over in anger. “Don’t _ever_ say that again.”

Takao’s breath caught. He’d never seen his friend’s eyes harden to that level of steel before.

“You’re hurting me, shin-chan,” he said.

Midorima let go. Takao resisted the urge to rub his wrist.

“You’re much better than him,” Midorima said. “In every way that’s important. You’re so much better than him.”

Takao paused his breathing. He needed his whole body to hear the words.

“What?” he said. He wondered if his brain could make things up if he wanted to hear them hard enough.

“Don’t make me repeat something so embarrassing,” Midorima snapped.

“Shin-chan…”

“You’re in my life now. That’s the way I want it. I don’t miss my Teiko days at all. This team is mine. You helped me see that. End of story.”

Takao knew that it was actually only the beginning of the story, and he wanted to hear the rest of it. But now was not the time.

Midorima picked up his hands and stared down at them.

“They’ve never failed me before. Not like this.”

Takao stood up again, but this time he took Midorima with him. He pushed down on his friend’s forearms to get the hands to drop.

“It’s not your hands’ problem. It’s your head,” he said.

“What, so now you’re some kind of brain specialist?” Midorima asked.

Takao tried out a smile, and the result wasn’t too bad. “No. I’m a Shin-chan specialist. One of the best in the country.”

He expected Midorima to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. He let out a laugh that wasn’t much more than a puff of air.

“I suppose you are,” he said.

It was almost scary how much those words could make Takao feel, because he knew his friend wouldn’t have said them about anyone else. He started toward the path leading back to the gyms. He felt it as Midorima came up behind him, and soon they were side by side.

_As it should be_ , Takao thought.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you need me i'll be in the corner, crying.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is the first knb fic i'm putting up. For those who regularly read my snk fics--sorry for this little commercial interruption. Please bear with me. I've felt the need to write this pairing for a long time now, and the urge can't be quenched any longer. I plan to get the chapters of this out quickly, so check back often for updates.


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